A Farewell

My little ball of fluff with the big blue eyes passed away Saturday at the age of 23. She died in my son’s arms with Sampson by her side.

Minou was six pounds of dignity, disdain, fury and frivolity. She was so small and yet she meant so much.

Thank you Minou.

Thank you for the years of love and loyalty.

Thank you for waking me up every day. I now have to learn how to use an alarm clock.

Thank you for teaching every dog you met how to respect a cat. When we brought home a 150 pound mammoth of a dog from the SPCA, in less than a minute you taught him to never chase cats again. And he never did. He chased dogs. So that was helpful.

Thank you for your War on Earwigs. It started way back in ’89 and not once was it funded by taxpayer money. You fought well, you fought hard and you never gave up. Generations from now, tales of the Fury with the ice blue eyes will haunt the dreams of earwigs everywhere.

Thank you for eating my brown couch. You were right. It was ugly, it was old and yes, I do keep things for too long.

Thank you for making senility look fun. In the last year, I didn’t scold you for sitting on the dining room table because I knew that in your heart, you sincerely believed that you were sitting on the couch.

Thank you for biting every vet you met. Especially the arrogant young one in Colorado who insisted that it was easy to give a cat a pill. He tried for an hour and he still bears the scars today. He lost his arrogance and gained a much needed respect for small animals. Good girl.

Thank you for sitting with Max that noble dog as he lay dying, you licked his muzzle and you cried. Thank you for taking every puppy and kitten we brought in to your side. You trained them well, scolded them and babied them. And now they cry for you.

Thank you for sitting in my lap, purring and offering comfort when my child was sick, when my husband was at war, when my Dad passed away. I don’t tend to let people know when my heart is breaking. I’m silly, I make smart ass comments, I carry on. But you always knew. You were always there. Throughout the times of joy and the times of deepest sorrow. You were there. A little brown and black ball of fluff with big blue eyes purring and yowling and fussing.

Now the house is quiet and you lie under the purple mums by the forest’s edge.

And I miss you so much.

I will always miss you.

Goodbye my little friend. Meow.

30 thoughts on “A Farewell

  1. I understand how you are feeling. I have lost many pets throughout the years, two within the last year. I like to tell you it gets easier or better but it does not. It is bearable most of the time and at other times when a thought of those pets pops into my mind it gets down right upsetting.

    I always tell the family and myself that no more pets are coming into the home. However, when a lost or abandon animal shows up it is very hard to turn them away. However, we can only handle two pets at one time so we strive very hard to find those animals a good home or no-kill-shelter.

    That was a very good tribute.

    I had placed a poem on my bog that I think you probably like to read @ http://dochalloween.wordpress.com/religion/rainbow-bridge-poem/

  2. And now there’s tearing flowing in Texas. Thank God for the joy they bring to our lives. Someone has already said, it is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all. This includes all the critters in our lives that bring us comfort and joy. Rest in peace, little Minou.

  3. Thats why I hate getting pets, they die so much sooner than humans and it hurts just as much. Been there myself. x

  4. Sorry about your cat…your writing is cool and gave your buddy a great farewell – I especially liked the little wooden guy’s pose, nice touch. In time, I hope to read some more. Take it easy, Marc

  5. So sorry about Minou. My son moved his cat in on me and I’ve grown a bit attached to him, so I understand if you teared up. And the little mannequin looks so cute, yet saddened in his positioning with the red rose.

    1. Thanks, they do grow on you. My son did the same thing, She’s a big black fluffy cat that went on a catnip high and never came down. She’s paranoid and hides when anyone comes over. I call her the I-cat for Invisible Cat (or imaginary cat). She’s 17 and I have friends who have never seen her.
      Dummy cut that rose from my own bush. I should be mad but it’s all good.

      1. You’re familiar with Cindy Sherman? She started using dolls in her photography, although it was a bit porno. I like these everyday poses you have with Dummy (wasn’t sure what to call him at first; didn’t know if there was an attachment with artists being so sensitive and all). Anyway, I love the concept, Dummy looking like everyday people.

        1. I had never heard of her, I just spent a good deal of time looking at her work. she’s odd but I like odd.Thanks for pointing her out. 🙂
          Dummy he is. I always called him Dummy but dummy as in mannequin. It’s funny it never occurred to me that dummy means foolish as well. Silly silly. 🙂
          Thanks for the compliment!

  6. Such a beautiful tribute written by a beautiful person. You lost a friend, companion and family member and it leaves a big hole in your heart. Sending love and hugs your way. Wish I was there to give you a real one!!! XOXOXO!!

  7. I guess your friends should know that the pets, like our beautiful cats, lived very long lives and were such a comfort and companions to us. We have been so blessed to have such wonderful pets. Not a bum in the lot. I’ll miss Minou like I still miss Joey, Dorothy, Percy, Martha. I remember when the twins would freak out when Minou meowed. So funny. I love you.

  8. Thank you, Minou, for living like you have and sharing with this person who has written this note to you. Through you I see my precious friends and relive memories.

  9. I am sitting here tearing up. What a wonderful memory of your beloved cat, written with love and humor as only you can do. Having had both cats and dogs (and having a dog now) I understand the loss when your furry friend is no longer there.

    I am happy for you that you had 22 years with Minou. And I bet she’s happy she had 22 years with you.

  10. That was so well written and so heartfelt- it made me cry! I can relate to losing a dear furry friend… it’s never easy, but I would never live without them in my life.
    On a lighter note, I LOVE the pic of your dog! What a look on his face!

  11. Such a beautiful, beautiful tribute to your beloved Minou. I felt like I knew her after reading this. What a special member of the family she was. Sorry for your loss. Margie

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